„I think Italy has some magic water."
„I think so too."
_-_-_-_-_
He is a good short distance swimmer. His domain is the backstroke. He looks like a model and the female fans can go crazy for him.
She is a diver who masters 3 meters, 10 meters and p...
"We're celebrating once all the training and competing is over."
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~•~
Beatrice spent the rest of the day in relative calm—if you can call strength training and dry-land exercises calm—but her thoughts kept drifting back to the evening ahead. As the time approached, she felt increasingly nervous, almost as if she were the one about to compete. It was strange how much she cared about Thomas and his team, but the friendship that had developed between them filled her with hope and determination.
When evening arrived, Beatrice put on her favorite sports hoodie in Italian colors and headed back to the swimming stadium. The stands were already packed with spectators, all anxiously awaiting the start of the finals. The stadium gleamed under the floodlights, and waves of energy rippled through the air. Beatrice found a spot in the stands with a great view of the pool, right among the other swimmers who had come to watch their fellow Italians win some medals.
Thomas and his relay team were competing for medals tonight, and even though she knew the race would be tough, she believed in him. He was full of determination, and when it mattered, he could surpass even his own limits. Beatrice sat among the other spectators, but she felt a unique connection to Thomas, as if they were the only two people in the stadium. When they finally appeared at the start, her heart began to beat faster.
Thomas stood at the edge of the pool, ready for one of the most important moments of his life. The atmosphere around him was charged with tension and anticipation. The sound of the water, the reflections of the lights on the surface, and the muffled voices of the crowd blended into a captivating melody that surrounded him. Although he was fully focused on the upcoming race, his thoughts briefly wandered to Beatrice. He knew she was there, somewhere in the stands, ready to support him, just as she had done that afternoon.
A faint smile appeared on his face as he thought of her. Knowing she was there, cheering for him and believing in his abilities, gave him a sense of peace. While waiting for his turn in the relay, he instinctively glanced toward the stands, as if searching for her face among the hundreds of spectators.
And then he saw her.
Beatrice stood among the crowd, dressed in Italian colors, her eyes fixed on the pool. When their gazes met, she raised her hand and waved at him. Her smile was wide and full of support, as if to reassure him that she was there just for him, ready to cheer for his every move.
Thomas's smile widened. In that single moment, he felt a wave of warmth and gratitude. It was amazing to have someone there who supported him like that. He felt some of the tension in his body release, as if her presence acted as a soothing balm for the nerves he had been feeling. He wanted to wave back, but if he didn't want to appear completely caught up in his emotions, he thought better of it. So he decided not to.
At that moment, when he saw her, he realized that this wasn't just about him anymore, but also about her. About her faith in him, about her support. He wanted to repay her for being there, for giving him strength. He knew he had to give everything he had in the race, that he couldn't let her down.
